For failure, remorse...

I cant with voice, though soul doth say.
i try with mouth, yet words decay.
and so my tongue wilst form,
those insufficient words it may.
with love of thee, my breast is warm.
yet when thou be not but by my side,
the sun itself seems to hide.
and every thing i know and love,
should seem to die?
though sweet comfort doth soon follow.
for canst no tie, there of dispair,
hold any that be not filled with air.
nor stand to punish those whoes love is fair.